


You Can Get All Sorts of Cool Stuff at the Butcher Shop

by sparkle



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alcohol, Attempt at Humor, Blood, Bloodplay, GinHijiGin, M/M, Pre-shogun assassination arc, Slow Build, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkle/pseuds/sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hijikata is a vampire. Gintoki delivers his blood. There's kissing at some point. Set during some nebulous time between the bodyswap arc and the shogun assassination arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired after seeing some of the really beautiful vampire!gintoki and vampire!hijikata fanart by [netamashii](http://netamashii.tumblr.com) on tumblr. please go look at their work, it is incredible! 
> 
> the unofficial title of this chapter is "no one is allergic to blood".

 

“Yorozuya,” Hijikata growled, “How much did you see?”

Gintoki felt the point of Hijikata’s sword pressing into his throat, the pressure wavering as Hijikata’s arm shook. No, not just his arm—Hijikata’s whole body seemed to be shaking. His jaw was clenched; his knuckles were white with the strain of holding his sword; his pupils were blown wide. While Gintoki was fairly confident he could beat Hijikata in a fight any day of the week, the tension he saw coiled in Hijikata’s body made him hesitate to act. It would be too easy for Hijikata’s shaking hand to falter and cut Gintoki’s throat. Gintoki raised his hands slowly.

“Hold on a moment, eh, Hijikata-kun,” he said. “Gin-san didn’t see anything at all. Gin-san had his eyes closed the whole time.”

Gintoki saw Hijikata tightening his grip on the sword.

“I mean… Gin-san was sleepwalking— _is_ sleepwalking! I’m asleep right now, actually. I definitely won’t remember anything I saw— _didn’t_ see!”

“Yorozuya, I’m only asking one more time: how much did you see? Think about your answer real carefully, because I don’t think your kids would be happy to hear their leader committed seppuku.”

 

~

 

It was far from the weirdest request they had received at Odd Jobs, but something about it struck Gintoki as _off_.

“Something about this is off,” Gintoki said. “Your boss already has an errand-boy, obviously, so why can’t you just take care of it?”

The stranger shifted uncomfortably on the couch across from Gintoki, nervous at being questioned. Gintoki thought the whole operation must be pretty sorry if the errand-boy wasn’t even prepared to answer the most obvious questions.

After a minute of thinking, the stranger finally responded. “F-food allergy—er, wait, no! Not a food allergy, but... I’m allergic... to...”

“You’re allergic to…?” Gintoki prompted.

“I’m allergic to… blood?” the stranger said, visibly cringing at his own ridiculous answer.

Gintoki sighed. “Come on, you can do better than that! Not like I was expecting the truth, but you didn’t even _try_.” For a moment it looked like the stranger was going to speak again, probably in an attempt to backtrack, but Gintoki held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve heard enough. I’m not taking your sketchy job. Get out.”

“Wait! We’ll pay you!” cried the stranger.

“Oh, you’ll _pay_ me? To do my _job_? Wow, that’s generous of you. Out.”

“We’ll pay you _well_! This much—”

As he spoke, the stranger was frantically scratching numbers onto a piece of paper. He shoved the paper across the coffee table.

Gintoki’s eyes grew large.

“This is—this is for each week?” he said. The stranger nodded.

Gintoki grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously.

“I look forward to working with you, valued customer!”

 

~

 

It couldn’t be that bad, right? Just because this client wanted someone to pick up a few gallons of pig blood from different butcher shops each week, then clandestinely deliver it through a chain of faceless intermediaries—no doubt necessary to conceal his identity as he conducted his shady business—didn’t mean anything bad was happening.

No, it was probably someone wanting to prepare a special delicacy that needed gallons of blood—not a serial killer or a pervert or anything like that. Yeah, it was probably just some lonely, young housewife trying to make a nice meal for her husband to rekindle their love, and she didn’t want the surprise to get out—that was definitely it.

Blood soup was a thing, right? Gintoki was ninety-five percent sure that blood soup was a thing.

Okay, the _absolute_ worst it could be was some pervert who was actually an okay guy otherwise, because if he was bad wouldn’t he just be killing humans to get their blood or something?

It was totally fine.

 

~

 

It wasn’t fine.

Well, at first it was. At first it was great, actually, because every week Gintoki would get an envelope of cash delivered to the shop. It was like New Year’s, only he didn’t have to give anyone else envelopes. It was great because the kids seemed happy that Odd Jobs had a regular client. They thought it made them more respectable or something. It was great because he could afford enough food for the whole family, even with Kagura’s appetite.

In the back of his mind, though, Gintoki kept wondering about his employer’s activities. Not that he felt bad or anything, because he would never take a job he believed to be _truly_ shady for any amount of money—well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. But he really didn’t feel bad about it.

At all.

Gintoki just couldn’t help but be curious—probably a relic from his days as a cat. He wasn’t worried about his role in a possibly horrific crime. He just wanted to know who needed all that blood and why. If it wasn’t anything bad, then he could keep on making money without worrying about perverts or serial killers or whatever; if it was something bad, then he could figure out what to do to fix it.

 

~

 

Gengai was a genius, thought Gintoki. Usually when Gengai tried to help him, the tools he came up with were pretty terrible, and often created a whole new set of issues to solve. It was a shame the old man wasted so much of his time on absurd, useless inventions, because he could really come up with some great ideas. This time, Gintoki had paid him— _actually paid_ him, and maybe that was the difference in functionality of the product—to make a simple waterproof radio transmitter and receiver that Gintoki could use to track the pig blood, wherever it was headed.

After picking up a parcel of pig blood from the most recent butcher shop his client had asked him to visit, Gintoki had planted the transmitter in one of the plastic tubs of blood before leaving it at the regular drop point.

Now, he was watching the pig blood travel all over town from the comfort of his own home. The display of the radio receiver was fairly straightforward: it looked like a small television with a grid of coordinates and a blinking red dot that indicated the transmitter’s location. The dot seemed to be moving around a lot, stopping every once in awhile for what Gintoki figured was another drop point, another step in the chain of intermediaries leading back to the big boss.

Gintoki watched the receiver for a long time before the dot settled for good, at the Shinsengumi barracks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Don't Cry Over Spilled Mayonnaise_ , or, _No One Whispers As Quietly As They Think They Do_

Gintoki crept through the halls of the Shinsengumi barracks, looking down at his receiver to make sure he was on the right track. As he got closer to the transmitter, its signal became stronger and its location became clearer. It looked like the transmitter was in the kitchen, if Gintoki was remembering the layout of the place correctly from his brief stint being trapped in Hijikata’s body. He began to make his way towards the signal.

When he thought about it, Gintoki was kind of surprised the signal wasn’t coming from one of the private rooms. Once he had seen the signal was at the barracks, he had assumed this was some Sougo-related thing. It could still be some Sougo thing, he supposed, but just—a thing he did in the kitchen? Gintoki thought about the cooking range, and about how many knives there were in the kitchen, and he hoped that it wasn’t a Sougo thing.

As he drew closer to the signal’s location, Gintoki saw a faint white light coming from a room down the hall. He carefully approached the doorway and peered in.

Hijikata was standing in the kitchen, silhouetted against the light pouring out from the open door of the fridge. Gintoki watched him standing for a good minute or so before reaching for a bottle and bringing it to his lips with an uncharacteristic sort of apprehension. Since when had Mayora, that nasty bastard, hesitated about drinking mayonnaise straight from the bottle?

Hijikata slowly touched his tongue to the nozzle of the bottle. Then, closing his eyes, he squeezed a dollop of mayonnaise onto his tongue. Almost immediately, Hijikata retched and dropped the mayonnaise bottle onto the floor.

“Fuck!” Hijikata groaned. He let the door of the fridge fall shut, plunging the room into darkness. Gintoki heard Hijikata exhale heavily, shakily, with a small choked sound at the end. Was he… _crying_? Oh god. Gintoki wasn’t sure, but he supposed that if someone was going to cry about mayonnaise it would definitely be this poor bastard.

Light flooded the room as Hijikata threw open the fridge door again. Gintoki saw Hijikata thrust his arm deep into the back of the fridge, knocking down several mayonnaise bottles as he went. Then he pulled out a familiar looking plastic container full of something rather red. Hijikata pulled off the lid and took several gulps of the blood that Gintoki had unknowingly been delivering for him. 

Right, not making blood soup, then. Pervert it was.

At least, Gintoki thought, it was a relatively harmless pervert. 

Gintoki decided this would be a good time to make his exit. He didn’t especially want to find out why Hijikata had swapped the mayo obsession for a blood obsession; he just knew that whatever the reason for it, Hijikata probably wasn’t a threat to anyone. Gintoki got about halfway down the hallway before he was startled by a soft but high-pitched beeping coming from the receiver in his hand. A warning flashed on the receiver’s screen telling Gintoki to replace its batteries soon. 

Gintoki held his breath and listened for the sounds of dozens of Shinsengumi officers coming to kill him for trespassing. But even though it had startled the hell out of Gintoki, it seemed like the beeping from the receiver hadn’t been loud enough to alert anyone of his presence. There were no movements along the hallway.

Relieved, Gintoki sighed and continued to the exit. At least no one had caught him, but he had almost pissed himself when the alarm when off. What if he had pissed himself  _and_ the Shinsengumi had caught him? They would just love that, wouldn’t they? Well, see if he ever paid Gengai for anything again.

As Gintoki slid open the door to the veranda, he was greeted by the business end of a sword—Hijikata.

“Yorozuya,” Hijikata growled, “How much did you see?”

“Hold on a moment, eh, Hijikata-kun,” Gintoki said. “Gin-san didn’t see anything at all. Gin-san had his eyes closed the whole time.”

Hijikata’s grip tightened on his sword.

“I mean… Gin-san was sleepwalking— _is_ sleepwalking! I’m asleep right now. I definitely won’t remember anything I saw— _didn’t_ see!”

“Yorozuya, I’m only asking one more time: how much did you see? Think about your answer real carefully, because I don’t think your kids would be happy to hear their leader committed seppuku.”

Gintoki didn’t know what to say. Obviously, denying he saw anything was out, but could he really tell Hijikata that he watched him guzzle down that pig blood like it was the last bottle of mayonnaise in Edo? Gintoki stared at Hijikata’s face, hoping it could give him some clue about his answer. Hijikata’s teeth were still clenched tightly; his body was still shaking; his face was twisted in anger. But beyond the anger, Hijikata seemed a little nervous, too. Maybe even _scared_. He knew Gintoki had seen him, and he was worried about how Gintoki would use the information.

Gintoki hoped being honest would calm Hijikata’s nerves.

“I saw Hijikata-kun drinking the blood I delivered this morning,” he said.

Hijikata’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Gintoki thought his answer had been wrong. Then the tension rushed out of his face, and he lowered his sword and turned away from Gintoki. His shoulders seemed to be trembling.

“Hijikata-kun, are you...” Gintoki began. 

The gentle contact of Gintoki’s hand on Hijikata’s arm made Hijikata turn around to face him. Hijikata’s eyes were shining in the moonlight, his tears threatening to spill over. Being _changed_ had been a traumatic experience, and while the rest of the Shinsengumi had been supportive of him in adjusting to his new lifestyle, none of them had stopped to ask if he was _okay_. Of all the people to finally realize he was under such strain, Hijikata would never have expected Yorozuya—no, Sakata-san, he thought—to understand, to reach out. Slowly, Hijikata raised his eyes to meet Gintoki’s serious expression.

“Hijikata-kun, are you a dracula?”

Hijikata blinked. 

“A drac—!” he shouted, before remembering where he was and what time of night it was, and continuing in a whisper-shout, “A _dracula_? Yorozuya, you moron. I’m not a _dracula_ , for fuck’s sake! First of all, it’s called being a vampire. I’m a _vampire_. Second of all—” 

“How old are you supposed to be, again, Oogushi-kun?” Gintoki said, cutting off Hijikata’s rant. “You’ve got to be too old for eighth-grade syndrome! But here you are, ‘Oh, look at me, I’m a vampire, bleh!’ This is the best thing I’ve heard since Tosh—Hrk!”

Hijikata threw Gintoki to the ground, pinning his wrists and legs with his own weight. 

“You know, Yorozuya… I just ate a few minutes ago, but suddenly I’m feeling like I could eat again. Weird, right?”

“Y-yeah, that is weird.”

Gintoki tried to reach for Hijikata’s sword, but he couldn’t escape Hijikata’s ever-tightening hold on his wrists. So, that was new. Apparently being a vampire gave Hijikata freaky strength. Gintoki felt Hijikata’s grip tighten and watched nervously as he lowered his head towards Gintoki’s neck. Hijikata’s hot breath puffed out over Gintoki’s throat.

“It would be real easy for me to kill you right now,” Hijikata said, his voice alarmingly near Gintoki’s ear. “It would look like an animal attack.”

Gintoki braced himself for the sharp pain of Hijikata’s teeth on his throat. He didn’t think Hijikata would actually kill him—probably just maim him—but he didn’t know for certain. Maybe something had changed in Hijikata, besides the whole drinking blood thing. Maybe if Gintoki screamed right now, the Shinsengumi would come and stop Hijikata. Or come and help Hijikata, more like. Were all the Shinsengumi vampires now? Was that their new thing? Gintoki should have let someone else know he was coming here. Kagura and Shinpachi would have been able to help him. Oh god, what would happen to the kids once Hijikata killed him? What would happen to the shop?

Then, as suddenly as he had attacked, Hijikata released his hold on Gintoki and stood up.

Hijikata sneered down at Gintoki. “Don’t fuck with me, Yorozuya.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gintoki and hijikata come to an agreement and try to make it work. unofficially, _Don't Be A Jerk To People Who Serve Your Food Because They Might Spit In It (Or Invite You To Dinner)_

The thing was, Gintoki actually kind of wanted to keep fighting with Hijikata. He was actually kind of _really_ into the idea, especially after having been goaded—okay, _threatened with grievous bodily harm and possibly death_ , technically—like that.

But despite the strong urge to provoke Hijikata again, Gintoki also recognized that he and Hijikata had mutual needs—Gintoki, for money, and Hijikata, for blood—and so in a rare show of diplomacy, he suggested they make an agreement. The agreement went something like this:

  * Gintoki would keep delivering pig blood every week, only now he would bring it directly to the demon vice-chief (and wasn’t that nickname more appropriate than ever, Gintoki thought).

  * Hijikata would pay Gintoki a little extra money, since he didn’t need to have other people involved in the work anymore.

  * They would both attempt— _attempt_ —to not kill each other. 




Unfortunately, Hijikata had refused to agree to Gintoki's _perfectly reasonable_ suggestion that the Shinsengumi also overlook some of the Odd Jobs’ minor indiscretions. Hijikata had actually gotten pretty angry over the whole idea, and for a while their negotiations deteriorated into a long rant by Hijikata. Gintoki hadn’t totally been listening at that point, but he was pretty sure he heard the words “honor” and “duty” in there. That was the kind of stuff Hijikata liked, right? Gintoki had wondered if Hijikata had ever reported him to the higher-ups for his involvement in the Joui War but decided not to ask.

Right, so, Gintoki thought he was getting a pretty good deal, all things considered. He was happy he would keep having steady work. With what Hijikata was going to be paying him, and money from other jobs, he could probably afford to play pachinko more often, and eat more parfaits, and feed Kagura and Sadaharu. Maybe he could even start paying Otose rent on time. 

Well, maybe not. Better not get ahead of himself.

 

~

 

The first five or six times they met, Hijikata insisted on meeting in the middle of the night, far away from the Shinsengumi barracks or anywhere else moderately convenient, in the seediest alleyways in the seediest parts of Edo. He was trying to be discreet, Gintoki figured, which might have made more sense if many of the Shinsengumi weren’t already aware of the situation. Money was money, though, so Gintoki didn’t argue the setting.

But the thing about seedy alleyways was that they tended to attract seedy characters. Hijikata and Gintoki’s deals were frequently interrupted by drunks and criminals. On one _extra_ special occasion, a drunk criminal—a Joui rebel who recognized the vice chief of the Shinsengumi, even out of uniform—was very determined to kill Hijikata, but couldn’t stop vomiting long enough to reach for his sword. 

Hijikata constantly needing to arrest people made it kind of hard to continue their transactions. Eventually, Gintoki and Hijikata decided to start meeting at the Odd Jobs shop.

 

~

 

Gintoki didn’t want Hijikata to flip out and try to kill him when he visited the shop, which would void their agreement and be somewhat inconvenient for everyone, so he tried to minimize factors that could cause unnecessary stress.

Each week, Gintoki had Kagura stay over with Tae and Shinpachi. He checked to make sure Sarutobi wasn’t hiding anywhere in the shop, or at least that she was hiding well enough that Hijikata wouldn’t notice. He set the meeting times late enough at night that no one would be coming by with job requests. He even took out some of the trash.

Still, Hijikata was visibly irritated, sometimes even outright _angry_ , during his visits. Generally that translated into him reminding Gintoki, every week, that he was only coming to the Odd Jobs shop because he had to, and that the whole thing was was more or less beneath him. 

And yeah, Gintoki understood that it wasn’t ideal to rely on someone whom you more or less hated to be your main source of food. He guessed Hijikata was also uncomfortable being out of his element. Gintoki totally got it—Hijikata had less control of the situation at the shop than he did in the dark alleyways of Edo, and being Hijikata, he was going to act like a little shit because of it. But at the very least, couldn’t Hijikata act professional during their deals? Gintoki didn’t expect them to become best pals or anything; he just didn’t want to put up with the attitude when he himself was being an _amazingly_ good sport about everything.

Hijikata’s shitty behavior needed an intervention.

So one week, before Hijikata could get out his first, no-doubt witty remark about Gintoki’s face or hair or whatever it would be that week, Gintoki asked him to stay for dinner.

“Oogushi-kun, do you want to stay for dinner?”

Hijikata, who was standing impatiently in the doorway, wad of cash in hand, barked out a short, surprised laugh in response. “What, do you wanna poison me? I thought you were happy with our arrangement.”

“Ah, look at this funny man here,” Gintoki deadpanned. He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair, before continuing. “No, I meant—well, okay, first? You must be dreaming if you think I’m cooking for you. I just meant you could eat your stuff here if you want, instead of waiting until you got home. You look like you’re starving.”

“Yorozuya, that’s—actually _nice_ of you?” Hijikata said, confused.

Gintoki hummed in agreement. “Yep. Gin-chan is a nice guy. Plus, I don’t want you to disembowel anyone on the way back to your place.”

“If you’re not careful, Yorozuya, I might disembowel someone right here.”

“Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t joke when you’re hungry and cranky like thi—"

“Yorozuya!”

Gintoki laughed. If Hijikata was actually that mad, Gintoki figured, he would have left or drawn his sword already. Instead, he stood there glowering until Gintoki waved him inside. 

Gintoki puttered into the kitchen and began rooting around for cups and bowls. He could hear the thud of shoes being dropped by the door, the clatter of a sword being leaned against a wall, the creaking of one of the old couches as Hijikata began to settle. Gintoki had been a little lonely without Kagura being around as much, and the quiet sounds of someone besides himself in the apartment soothed him. Having guests over could be nice sometimes, he thought absently.

 

~

 

It wasn’t the most companionable dinner, but no one got murdered. The only blood that got spilled was some that sloshed out of Hijikata’s mug on the way to the table. There was even some genuine, non-vindictive laughter about halfway through, but Hijikata and Gintoki both pretended not to notice.

The next time he came to the shop, Hijikata was already taking off his shoes before Gintoki had the chance to invite him in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's normal for several weeks, until it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, everyone, for reading so far!
> 
> i want to point out that the rating for this story has changed. please take heed of the _explicit_ rating, which doesn't apply quite yet but definitely will in coming chapters!
> 
> also, the next update for this story might not be for a few weeks, because i am traveling for the holidays and will not have much computer access. future chapters are already in the works, though.

Gintoki and Kagura lay on the floor of the main room at the Odd Jobs shop, basking in the cool glow of the TV. There had been a marathon of Dragon Ball Z, and the day had gotten away from them. At ten o’clock, and the doorbell rang. Gintoki and Kagura ignored it.

The doorbell rang again. 

“We’re closed,” shouted Gintoki.

Kagura turned up the volume on the TV.

When the bell rang a third time, Gintoki realized the person at the door probably wasn’t going anywhere, and he convinced Kagura, with an offer of three hundred yen, to go see who it was.

“Gin-chaaaan,” Kagura shouted from the door. “Toshi’s here!”

Ah, damn. Was it that time already? Gintoki rolled onto his back and stretched languidly.

“Hijikata-kuuuuun,” he called from his spot the floor. Gintoki heard soft footsteps padding towards him. 

“This a bad time, Yorozuya?” Hijikata asked, eyes flicking towards Kagura.

Gintoki sighed. “No, hold on a second,” he said. “I’ll get your stuff.” 

He lay on his back, blinking vacantly at the ceiling.

He yawned.

Stretched.

Then, moaning pathetically, and glancing over to make sure that Hijikata was watching his struggle, Gintoki made a halfhearted attempt to stand up. He got as far as pulling himself upright against the sofa, but couldn’t be bothered to do more than that. 

“Unnghhhh, Hijikata-kun, you know where the fridge is,” Gintoki grumbled. “You can get it yourself.”

Hijikata rolled his eyes, but walked towards the kitchen.

Gintoki, losing the will to exert even the minimal effort he needed to sit up, slid down to the floor and closed his eyes for a bit of a nap, maybe. He heard the rustle of plastic bags being removed from the fridge, then the quiet thuds of Hijikata walking back to the main room.

“Yorozuya.” Hijikata’s voice was suddenly very close.

Gintoki opened his eyes and saw Hijikata’s hand waving a wad of cash in front of his face. He swiped at it lazily, and Hijikata pulled the money out of his reach, laughing. That little shit.

Gintoki was preparing to launch a serious assault—or at least to stretch his arm out a little farther, and maybe smack Mayora, the bastard—when Kagura cleared her throat, startling them both. She had been watching the interaction from the doorway, no doubt noticing how Hijikata was standing in their apartment like he belonged there, getting all chummy with Gintoki. Gintoki’s stomach flipped uneasily as he watched a grin spread across Kagura’s face.

“Gin-chan,” she said, smiling a little too broadly. “You’re so sly… Is this why I have to go to Shin-chan and Anego’s house every week?”

Gintoki tried to speak, tried to interrupt the oncoming, alarming train of thought, but only managed to stop Kagura after she had referred to Hijikata as his _illicit lover_ , his _boy toy_ , and—

“Gin-chan, you and your _secret wife_ can have all the time you want together! I’m going to Anego’s!”

Kagura skipped out the door—actually _skipped_ , that brat—leaving Gintoki and Hijikata alone.

Okay, so maybe Gintoki didn’t manage to stop her, but at least she stopped herself. 

“Tch, Yorozuya, where does she learn this stuff?” asked Hijikata. He seemed a little annoyed, if his twitching eyebrow was anything to go by—and what else was new, really?—and Gintoki imagined he might have blushed, if he had had enough blood in his skin for it.

Gintoki shrugged. “Dunno. You staying for dinner?”

With a sigh, Hijikata set his bags on the table and went to the kitchen to find a mug.

“Oogushi-kun! Get me some rice while you’re in there!”

 

~

 

Gintoki was drunk. He hadn’t meant to get like this, really, but drinking with Hasegawa was pretty much always guaranteed to be a shitshow. At least Gintoki had remembered to come home to—to—

Well, he didn’t know what it was for, but he remembered he had to come home, anyway.

As he stumbled in, Gintoki noticed an extra pair of shoes in the entryway. Had he gotten new shoes? They were pretty nice, even though they looked a little scuffed. Gintoki wrestled off his boots, considered putting on the new shoes, realized he would just have to take them off again if he wanted to go inside and lie down, and decided it wasn’t worth the effort. For that matter, was going inside worth the effort? He could lie down perfectly fine right where he was.

He was about to do just that when a voice from the main room stopped him.

“Welcome back, Yorozuya,” it called. “Door was open.”

Gintoki looked up and saw Hijikata on one of the couches.

“Ah, Oogushi-kun, it’s you!” Gintoki shouted, pleased. Volume control was difficult for him when he had been drinking.

Gintoki crawled over to the couch and pulled himself up next to Hijikata, which earned him a glare and—maybe this was his drunken imagination—a bit of a blush.

“God, you reek,” grumbled Hijikata.

Gintoki laughed, made sure to give Hijikata a faceful of his alcohol-laden breath. He bet Hijikata would think it was funny if he had been drinking too. Was that something he could even do anymore?

“Hijikata-kuuun, c’n you drink?” Gintoki asked. Then he frowned, thinking he needed to rephrase the question. “Well, no, I know you can drink—th’ dracula thing, obviously, blood or whatever—I jus’ mean—booze? D’you drink booze?”

“No,” replied Hijikata, “just the blood.”

He sounded upset. Gintoki would definitely be upset if _he_ couldn’t drink anymore. That poor, poor bastard. Gintoki started to feel a little misty-eyed.

“M’not upset,” said Hijikata, startling Gintoki.

Could Hijikata read minds now? Could he do that now that he was a dracula? Had Gintoki been thinking anything weird lately? Oh, god. He was _always_ thinking something weird. He tried to clear his mind, but then he started remembering that dream he’d had the night before, the one about Ketsuno Ana and the riding cr—

Hijikata, mercifully, interrupted his mental turmoil. “I can’t read minds, you idiot! You’re sayin’ stuff out loud.” Hijikata was blushing a little. Maybe Gintoki had said some of that stuff about his dream out loud, too.

“Ah, shit,” sighed Gintoki. Could’ve been worse, he supposed.

Then, another weird thought occurred to him:

“Were you waiting for me, Hijikata-kun?”

Instead of answering, Hijikata scoffed and pushed Gintoki away.

Gintoki noticed, then, a bowl of rice sitting on the table across from Hijikata’s half-finished mug of blood. He was suddenly starving.

“‘S that for me?” he asked, gesturing at the bowl.

“Well it ain’t for me,” said Hijikata, looking away.

 

~

 

“Hijikata-kun, where’re you going?”

For the first time since they had started having dinners together, Hijikata was leaving without eating. As Hijikata slipped on his shoes, he looked over Gintoki’s shoulder to where Kagura was lounging on the couch.

“Your kid’s here,” he said.

“She is.”

“I don’t want her to—”

“‘S fine. She knows, Hijikata-kun.” Of _course_ Kagura knew. The only way to stop her from devouring everything in the fridge was to tell her what was actually in the unlabelled plastic tubs—disturbingly, it had looked for a while like Kagura was considering going for it anyway—and that had led to questions, and Gintoki hadn’t seen any reason to lie about it. Anything she made up in her head would have been way worse than the truth, probably.

Hijikata froze, eyes wide and staring at Gintoki like—well, Gintoki couldn’t tell. He seemed caught somewhere between full-blown panic and apoplectic rage, was probably leaning towards the rage if his usual behavior patterns were any indication. Gintoki started to think that it might have been smart to check in with Hijikata before telling Kagura about the whole _blood thing_. This kind of stress couldn’t be good for Hijikata’s blood pressure, he thought.

Damn, that was a good joke. He wished he could tell Hijikata, but worried that it would only make things worse. Then he wished he could tell Hijikata _that_ , that he was being sort of considerate, but, well—that was probably a bad idea, too.

Maybe it was that he was becoming better at managing his anger, or maybe he was just better at managing his anger towards Gintoki, specifically, but after a moment Hijikata unfroze, and seemed to rein in his temper without Gintoki even needing to explain the situation to him. As he pushed past Gintoki into the main room, he lay a hand on Gintoki’s shoulder and leaned close to his ear.

“Yorozuya,” he muttered, “I will fucking _kill you_.”

Okay. So, the temper was still there. That was fine.

Despite having literally—literally!—threatened Gintoki’s life minutes before, Hijikata seemed pretty relaxed during dinner, leaning back on the couch and taking occasional sips from his mug. Kagura, too, seemed relaxed, or as much as she could be while inhaling vast amounts of food at an alarming speed. She sometimes paused and glanced at Hijikata, but Gintoki thought it was mostly in that companionable way of making eye contact with someone during a meal, of acknowledging the shared experience—something corny like that. Gintoki, taking his cues from the other two, enjoyed his dinner in peace, too.

 

~

 

“Strawberry milk?” Gintoki asked, holding out a carton to Hijikata with an apologetic grimace.

Hijikata let out a harsh, choked laugh and smacked the carton from Gintoki’s hand.

“God, no!” he shouted. “I can’t have strawberry milk! I can’t have booze, or mayo, or—blood is the _only thing_ I can eat!”

Gintoki frowned. He was trying to be helpful, trying to stay composed, but failing at the former and soon-to-be-failing at the latter, if Hijikata was going to keep shouting at him.

He supposed it was fair that Hijikata was pissed. _Maybe_. 

The day before, which had been their usual meeting day, Gintoki had picked up Hijikata’s package, as usual, brought it home, as usual, put it in the fridge, as usual. Hijikata had called Odd Jobs later that afternoon to let Gintoki know he couldn’t make it that night because of a stakeout, and he would come by the next evening. He hadn’t gone that long without blood before, but he would be fine missing a day, he had assured Gintoki.

So Gintoki, at a loose end for the rest of the day, had invited Hasegawa over to drink. That went how it usually went, too.

The next day, Gintoki, who was too hungover to even think about food, hadn’t entered the kitchen, much less checked the fridge, until Hijikata showed up around ten o’clock as usual. It was then that they found Hijikata’s usual parcel of pig blood to be missing entirely.

So, okay, fine. Maybe Gintoki was a _little_ responsible for the situation. 

Hijikata was pacing the length of the main room, clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly as he walked. 

“I n-need something to eat,” he said shakily, not for the first time that evening.

“I know you do,” replied Gintoki, frustrated. “I just—I don’t have anything else here. I can go to the butcher right when he opens tomorrow, yeah? And I’ll bring you—”

Hijikata interrupted him. “Y-you do, though. You have something else.”

It took Gintoki a moment to catch up to Hijikata’s meaning.

Right. He was _full_ of _something else_ , wasn’t he? And he supposed he could spare a little, under the circumstances. People gave blood all the time, right?

“Hijikata-kun, you can have some, if you want to,” Gintoki said. “I mean, this was kind of my fault, right? So. You can.”

Hijikata looked like he wanted to argue about the _kind of_ part, but mostly he just looked relieved. Grateful, even. He pointed towards one of the couches. “Fine. Sit down, Yorozuya.”

Gintoki did, and Hijikata sat next to him. Hijikata lowered his face to Gintoki’s wrist, pressed his nose to Gintoki’s pulse, and—

“Hijikata-kun, are you _smelling_ me?”

Instead of getting mad, which Gintoki was kind of expecting, Hijikata huffed out a short laugh and continued smelling Gintoki’s wrist. Where had his anger gone? Gintoki guessed he was happy enough now that he had a nice, warm meal in front of him.

This close, Gintoki could see the depth of pallor to Hijikata’s skin. He looked sick, almost gray, even in the warm light of the room. Gintoki wondered whether he always looked like that now—now that he was a dracula, or whatever—or if it was because he hadn’t eaten in over a day.

Hijikata licked his lips, then glanced up to make eye contact with Gintoki. “This really okay?” he asked.

Gintoki nodded.

“Good. But if I get diabetes,” Hijikata said, “I’m gonna arrest you.” He plunged his teeth into the flesh of Gintoki’s wrist.

Gintoki had been ready for the accompanying pain of being bitten. He had, however, totally failed to account for—

well—

it was—

Hijikata’s dark mop of hair obscured Gintoki’s view, but he could feel the infinitesimally small, soft movements of Hijikata’s lips and tongue against the skin of his wrist, the bobbing of his adam’s apple as he swallowed. His skin felt slightly cool where he gripped Gintoki’s arm, but his mouth was burning hot against Gintoki’s pulse.

With the hand not holding Gintoki’s arm, Hijikata pushed against Gintoki’s chest, forcing him to lean back, head lolling over the top of the couch. Gintoki thought he heard something like a—a _moan_ coming from Hijikata then, thought he felt it rumbling in Hijikata’s throat, but figured it was his imagination. The gentle suction of Hijikata’s mouth on his wrist was starting to feel like—

it felt like—

the whole thing hurt, but it felt like—

Gintoki groaned as Hijikata pulled his teeth away from his wrist. Hijikata lapped at a few drops of blood lazily trickling from the punctures before sitting up straight, scrubbing at his mouth with his sleeve, and clearing his throat. 

“Well,” he said. He was suddenly embarrassed, not meeting Gintoki’s eyes.

Gintoki, dazed, stared at Hijikata’s now-flushed face, his reddened lips. “Had enough, Hijikata-kun?” he drawled.

Hijikata’s flush deepened and he stood abruptly, walked quickly to the door. Gintoki couldn’t find the energy to make his eyes to follow Hijikata, but he could hear the sounds of Hijikata putting on his shoes and sword.

“Oogushi-kun?” Gintoki called.

“Th-thank you. I hope I didn’t take too much,” Hijikata said gruffly. Gintoki heard the door slide open and shut, then Hijikata’s quick footsteps descended the stairs and vanished into the night.

Gintoki sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. Slowly, carefully, he sat up and waited a moment for his head to stop spinning. He probably just needed to have some strawberry milk, read the newest chapter of Gintaman, and go to sleep. He would be fine in the morning. Once he was sure he could use his legs without falling over, he would go to the kitchen.

Gintoki looked down at his lap. He was hard.

Right.

So much for being a total sadist.


End file.
